Burdens Of Command
by volley
Summary: Trip finds himself in command under difficult circumstances
1. Chapter 1

This story is set around the end of Season 4 but happily ignores TATV, simply because I never watched that abysmal last episode – and never will.

Since there doesn't seem to have ever been any mention of Reed's SIC, I promoted my own character, Ensign Müller, to such a position :-)

SitaZ and RoaringMice beta read for me, greatly improving my story as usual. Thanks girls!

Hope you enjoy it!

111

Trip stopped pacing and turned abruptly towards the decon chamber, hearing its door opening. "What the hell happened?" he asked tensely.

Malcolm took a few steps inside sickbay and looked around with haunted eyes. "The Captain and T'Pol?" His voice was hoarse, anger and concern playing across his face.

In a couple of strides Trip was before him. "They're in surgery, they didn't look good," he replied, passing a nervous hand through his hair. "What in _heaven's_ _name_ happened, Malcolm?" he repeated, grabbing him by an arm.

Reed wobbled, grimacing and stifling a cry of pain, and Trip became aware of something sticky under his fingers. He removed his hand and looked in mixed horror and surprise at the blood on it. Malcolm's uniform sleeve was soaked in it. How could he have possibly missed that?

"Damn, I'm sorry," he apologised under his breath. He put a hand on Malcolm's back and guided him to a biobed, and Reed stumbled on without a word and climbed awkwardly to sit on it.

A medic was immediately at their side, cutting away at Malcolm's sleeve.

"What happened, Lieutenant?" Trip repeated yet again but more gently, the use of rank helping him keep his emotions under control, as he moved to the side to give the medic room to work.

Malcolm lifted his chin from his chest and turned his head, fixing furious eyes on Trip's very blue and currently very worried ones. "A bloody explosion," he began; but as he was about to continue the medic said, "I need to sedate you, Lieutenant." Before Reed could protest he pressed a hypospray against his neck and promptly emptied its contents into his bloodstream.

One moment Malcolm's eyes held fire in them, the next they became unfocused; his head lolled and his body went limp, and Trip marvelled, not for the first time, at the instant reaction of human physiology to whatever potions physicians used to put one under.

Swiftly and with professional expertise the young medic lowered the unconscious lieutenant to the biobed. "Sorry, Commander," he said, his voice truly apologetic. "But Lieutenant Reed has a projectile in his arm which needs to be removed, the sooner the better."

Trip watched as the privacy curtain was drawn around his friend and closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. With the Captain and First Officer, and now also the Armoury Officer, out of the picture he suddenly felt very alone, the burden of command weighing heavily on his shoulders.

He went to the lavatory and started to wash Malcolm's blood off his hand, taking a couple of deep breaths to clamp down on the queasiness that was threatening to overwhelm him. The image of Archer and T'Pol being rushed off to surgery was all that he could think of, and now, as he watched the pinkish water running down the drain, he felt another wave of nausea, and the weakness that comes with shock.

Damn, he was used to cleaning grease off his hands, not blood! As Chief Engineer his duties might well include working the transporter, but not to see people – friends – re-materialise wounded and unconscious! _Get a grip, man!_ he scolded himself, leaning on the basin.

A few deep breaths later he felt composed enough to face sickbay again. As he looked around it, wondering if he should find an out-of-the-way corner and wait for news or try to contact the planet, he spotted Ensign Brown, of Malcolm's security team, leaning against the wall near the door to decon. In the frantic circumstances he had virtually forgotten that Reed had taken one of his men down to the planet with him. Brown was looking on with a strange expression on his face, one which Trip couldn't quite identify but seemed at odds with the situation at hand. He strode up to him and saw the ensign immediately straighten his posture.

"Ensign, report," he ordered without preamble, while he checked for obvious signs of injury on the man's body. None were visible.

"Aye Sir, but if I may… it would be better to find a quieter spot."

Trip didn't like the request and even less the way Brown made it sound; as if he weren't smart enough to have thought of it himself. Who the hell did he think he was? Nonetheless he pushed the door to decon open and strutted in, followed by the ensign.

"Is this _quiet_ enough for you, Ensign?" he confronted the young man immediately, turning abruptly on his heels and looking down at him. Brown was of sturdy build but didn't stand taller than Reed.

"Yes, Sir," Brown replied, standing at attention and, to Trip's dismay, seeming unfazed by his brusque tone.

The engineer gave him a frosty stare. "Then I trust now you can tell me how a friendly diplomatic contact ended up with Captain Archer, Commander T'Pol and Lieutenant Reed bein' carted off to surgery," he said, keeping his emotions carefully in check.

"There was an explosion, Sir," Brown began, looking Trip straight in the eye. "In the building where the conference room is, the one Lieutenant Reed had checked pre-emptively."

Trip bristled at the possible insinuation but refrained from commenting. He nodded to prompt the man to continue, and Brown did in an emotionless, matter-of-fact voice.

"Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol had concluded their talks with the Prime Minister, Sir. Lieutenant Reed and I had rejoined them and we were all walking back to the shuttlepod. We were some thirty metres away when there was a sudden blast. Just seconds later things got chaotic, with people screaming and running. The Lieutenant ordered me to get the Captain and Commander to the pod while he covered our backs, but guards suddenly sprang out from the opposite side and, without warning, started to shoot at us. The Captain and Commander were in front and were hit right away. I dove to the side and found shelter behind an alien vehicle. Before I could think of my next move I was transported up to Enterprise, Sir."

Brown fell silent, his body perfectly straight, his face betraying no feelings, his eyes riveted on a spot behind Trip.

"You can thank your CO for that," Trip commented tersely, stopping himself from pacing; he wouldn't give this impassive man the satisfaction of knowing just how agitated he felt.

"While the talks took place, did you or Lieutenant Reed get any hint that somethin' may be brewing? Did you notice anythin' out of the ordinary?" he asked.

"No, Sir. Although…" Brown's gaze dropped briefly to the floor.

Trip stiffened. _There is a limit to a man's self-control, and right now, for this man, that limit is dangerously low_. "Go on, Ensign!" he prompted, in a command tone that made Brown snap back to attention.

"Aye, Sir. Permission to speak freely…"

Trip nodded, his eyes hard. For some reason he found the ensign's behaviour disturbing. He tried to remember something about him, but aside from the fact that he was one of Reed's team and had been with them since their mission in the Expanse he realised he knew nothing.

"Well, Sir… ever since we boarded the shuttle to go down to the planet Lieutenant Reed appeared quite nervous, as if… well, as if something were bothering him," Brown said enigmatically.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Trip ground out, barely able to contain his fury. Was this jerk actually suggesting that Malcolm had suspected something was about to happen and didn't act? Hell, Reed was Brown's Commanding Officer, the man should know him better than that!

"If you have anythin' to say, say it clearly, Ensign!" he ordered.

"Negative, Sir," Brown answered in military fashion, snapping back into his former rigid stance. "It was just an impression."

"Well, I'd appreciate if you stuck to facts," Trip commented darkly. Before he could add anything else the comm. sounded.

"Ensign Sato to Commander Tucker."

Trip dragged his eyes away from Brown and went to answer the page. "Tucker."

"Commander, we are being hailed from the surface."

"I'll take it in the ready room, Ensign. Just give me a couple of minutes to get up there," Trip replied. Before leaving he turned to Brown. "I want a complete report as soon as possible. Get on it."

* * *

The face that appeared on the screen wasn't alien enough to mistake the expression on it: plain outrage. Trip bridled in his own anger and braced himself for what was coming.

"You betrayed our trust! You spoke sweet words, talked of alliances while all the time you planned to attack us!" the grey humanoid spat out. "Our Prime Minister had barely left the hall when it blew up!"

His bulging eyes, a characteristic trait of his species, made him look even more furious; and of course it didn't help that their colour was a deep purple.

"Hold on a moment," Trip replied gruffly, livid at the man's allegation. "You can't just go throwin' accusations around without supportin' them with evidence! We were not behind the explosion. We know nothin' about it."

"That is a _lie_!" the man immediately shouted back. "The explosion signature proves it. The explosive used is alien to our world."

Trip paled. That could not be. His mind went blank for the briefest of moments. "That still doesn't mean we are responsible," he countered harshly. "It seems to me you have come to that conclusion a bit too fast, firin' on our people as you did." He made an effort to modulate his voice to a civil enough tone – this guy already thought they were barbarians; he'd better not prove him right. "Our Captain and First Officer are seriously wounded, and our Security Officer has a bullet in his arm."

"How did you expect us to react? Our Prime Minister and other innocent people suffered injuries; fortunately they were minor. You are lucky no one was killed. I suggest you review the data I'm sending you," the alien said, staring at him with such ruthless eyes that even through the screen Trip felt his blood run cold. "We have every one of our weapons trained on your ship." The being before him smiled, and Trip felt a chill run up his spine. "We may not be as advanced as you are, but if we fired all our weapons at once?" He left the rest unsaid.

Trip raised his hands in a calming gesture. "I can assure you, we are not here to start a war, Mr…?"

"Chief Advisor Asek. And you are…?"

"Commander Charles Tucker."

"Review the data immediately, Commander. We haven't had any other extra-planetary contacts recently. I trust that you'll take full responsibility," the Chief Advisor ground out. The screen went blank before Trip could even think of a reply.

With no one around to see him, Trip allowed his body to show the weariness he felt, slumping down in Archer's chair. _What now?_ he wondered, burying his face in his hands. The Captain and T'Pol had looked quite seriously injured, even to an untrained eye such as his; he was likely to have to face this diplomatic incident without being able to rely on their experience. _Damn,_ he silently cursed as he remembered he wasn't even sure if they were still alive.

His thoughts flew to sickbay but he refrained from calling – he had no doubt Phlox would inform him as soon as he had any news to report. He reached instead for the comm. link to the bridge.

"Hoshi, you should be receivin' some data. Please forward it to me as soon as possible."

"Yes, Commander, I am receiving it now." Hoshi's voice was tense but steady and professional, and Trip could not help but feeling grateful for the reassurance it gave him. Four years ago the young linguist would have probably toppled under today's pressure.

Some ten minutes later Trip was staring at the computer screen in Archer's ready room at data he could not quite believe. He swallowed hard. _I'm no weapon expert, this can't be right_, he thought. He was sickeningly aware, though, that he knew enough to tell the explosion indeed bore a Starfleet signature.

He pressed the comm. link to the Armoury. "Ensign Müller, please report to the ready room right away." He needed to have Malcolm's SIC confirm this. Then he pressed the comm. link to the bridge. "Ensigns Sato and Mayweather, there will be a senior staff meeting in half an hour."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

222

Reed didn't know how many times he had come 'round from unconsciousness – fearfully too many to keep count – but he did know that he had never enjoyed the feeling.

It wasn't like waking up in the morning. There was that awfully long moment before he became aware of his surroundings when he felt totally disoriented; not something he liked, it unsettled him deeply. And then, more often than not, there was another long moment when he would try to remember what had caused his unconsciousness in the first place. This meant he had to force himself to take stock of his injuries, and that he liked even less, because it made him face his weaknesses and shortcomings.

When he opened his eyes, this time, he was alone. It took him a few moments to realise it, but in the end his sight became focused enough to be able to make out the small environment encompassed by the privacy curtain around his biobed. He sighed; so he had his answer to the first question: he was in sickbay. _Well, it could be worse, I suppose_.

It took him much less to recall _why_ he was there. The image of the Captain and T'Pol falling under alien fire stood stark before his mind's eye, making his heart jump into his throat. He must know if they… he shook his head to dispel the distressing thought and immediately the room began to spin. Cursing, he closed his eyes tightly and focused on bringing his ragged breathing under control.

It took him a few moments, but eventually he felt grounded enough to open them again and check himself over: bandaged right arm, IV tube snaking out of his left one, no other attachments, _thank God for that_; in fact they hadn't even stripped him of his uniform, just cut off the right sleeve and rolled up the left one. That got him thinking. Maybe they planned on releasing him shortly; on the other hand it more likely meant the sickbay crew were too busy trying to save the Captain's and T'Pol's lives.

_I must know_.

Reed glanced at the pouch suspended above his bed and draining into his arm via the IV. It was more than three quarters empty. _Ought to have had enough,_ _whatever it is_, he decided, and proceeded to remove the IV needle from his arm. He gingerly moved his injured limb to do that, and to his relief found that he felt almost no pain at all. Painkillers were definitely a wonderful thing. He took a deep breath and pushed himself up to a sitting position. The dizziness returned, but this time he was prepared and braced himself against it

Malcolm slowly let his legs dangle and ventured to slide off the biobed. He felt a little wobbly and kept his left hand firmly attached to the edge of the bed while he looked around for something to be made into a sling: his wounded arm didn't seem to like the pull of gravity and had promptly begun to throb dully. Seeing nothing that could be of use, he just unzipped his uniform, stuffed his right hand inside it, and zipped it back up a little. It would have to do.

He took a few tentative steps and, finding he was steady enough, peeked out of his privacy curtain. Sickbay was quiet save for the usual noises from Phlox's menagerie, and seemingly deserted. His bed was the one nearest to the door, and he turned around to see more privacy curtains drawn. His heart started racing again. He knew who would be behind those curtains and his muscles tensed automatically, sending a sharp pain down his wounded arm. The groan that escaped him immediately made Phlox materialise, seemingly from nowhere, his face showing none of his usual cheerfulness.

_That can't be good_.

"Lieutenant, I don't believe you should be out of bed," he said, a hint of tiredness veiling his voice. "And you definitely shouldn't have removed your IV. It was there for a good reason," he added a little crossly, as he quickly closed the space between them and held his tricorder in front of Reed. "We've been… a little busy, but I was just about to come and see how you were doing."

Malcolm stalled briefly, afraid to ask but terrified of not knowing. "I'm sorry, Doctor," he replied after a moment in a strained voice. "But I must know…"

"They are alive," Phlox interrupted him in a gentler tone. "Although their conditions are quite serious. Projectile weapons may be crude but, as I'm sure you know, can inflict terrible damage," he said grimly. "Allow me to skip a full medical report, Lieutenant," he added wearily.

Malcolm blinked, his mind processing the information. "Are they going to be all right?" he forced himself to ask.

"I'm afraid it's too early to say. They are both stable for the time being, and I consider that already a success. Only time will tell," the doctor answered noncommittally. "That's what I also told Commander Tucker when he came down to visit some fifteen minutes ago."

Phlox took Reed by the elbow. "Come now, Lieutenant, you really must…"

"I really can't, Doctor," Malcolm interrupted him resolutely. There was no way anyone was going to keep him in bed.

"Your system suffered a trauma. Your injury may well be minor but you still need to rest," Phlox insisted.

"I feel fine," Malcolm replied unwaveringly. "With the Captain and First Officer incapacitated, Commander Tucker needs my help."

The doctor looked at him sternly and Reed heaved a deep breath. "Please Phlox, I know I don't have a very good record as a patient, but surely you can't fail to see that this is not one of my tricks to get out of sickbay: I really am needed up and about."

Malcolm cringed at his pleading tone and didn't think he could remember ever addressing the doctor by his first name before, but he thought he might have achieved the desired effect, for Phlox shook his head and sighed.

"Mr. Reed, you are a stubborn being if I ever met one," he commented. After a moment he added resignedly, "But I can see how under the current circumstances the Commander may indeed need your help. Let me at least put your injured arm in a proper sling."

"Thank you, Doctor," Malcolm replied gratefully.

* * *

Reed stepped on the bridge from the turbo-lift and saw several heads turn and anxious gazes converge on him.

Hoshi's dark eyes softened and relief was clear in her voice as she said, "It's good to see you, Lieutenant."

"Aye, Sir," Travis agreed, echoed by the men manning the science and tactical stations.

Malcolm nodded. "Thank you. Is the Commander in the ready room?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir," Hoshi answered. "Ensign Brown is with him."

Reed crossed over to the door and pressed the bell.

Trip heard the chime and answered it without tearing his eyes off Brown. The door swished open and only then did he shift his gaze to see who would be standing in the frame. He was surprised to see Malcolm, his right arm in a sling. It was not long since Trip had visited sickbay, and Reed had still been unconscious.

"Lieutenant," he greeted him, as he took in his friend's rather pale face. "Dismissed," he told Brown, and the man nodded and turned to leave.

As his subordinate passed by him, Malcolm reached to put a hand on his shoulder and said wryly, "I'm glad at least you made it back in one piece, Ensign."

Brown acknowledged the words with a stare and a nod, and left without a word, and Malcolm turned to shoot a concerned look at Trip. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Sit down, Malcolm," Trip said quietly, and Reed obeyed without question, which spoke plenty of how poorly his friend must be feeling. Damn, he hated this! He was beginning to understand what 'burdens of command' really meant. He felt overwhelmed by the present circumstances. He much preferred being Chief Engineer, tinkering with his beloved warp drive.

"How're you feelin'? I came down to sickbay but you were still out of it," Trip said.

"Forget about me," Malcolm replied firmly. "I'm fine. What's happening? Have you spoken to the Raans? Have you found out anything about the explosion and why they fired on us?"

He sounded tired and tense. Trip pinched the bridge of his nose. "Would you mind telling me what happened down there, first?" he asked.

"…Hasn't Brown filled you in?" Malcolm replied after a moment of hesitation.

"Your report, Lieutenant," Trip tersely ordered.

He saw something cross Malcolm's eyes and immediately felt bad, not so much for his brusque tone, which could be forgiven in light of the critical situation, but for pulling rank now that the two of them were alone; he hadn't done it since… hell, since the first year of their mission, and he knew it put a distance between them that antagonised the bond of friendship he had so laboriously developed with Reed. But much as Trip hated it he couldn't let friendship stand in the way of objectiveness right now.

Malcolm immediately responded to his command tone, as Trip knew he would, and it gave him a twinge of guilt to see his friend's discomfort as he automatically straightened his shoulders.

"Aye, Sir," Reed replied with professional politeness. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. "The talks were finished and the Captain and Commander had taken leave from the Prime Minister and his entourage who, according to Raan protocol, remained in the hall," he began. "We were walking back to the shuttlepod, which was some three hundred metres from the buildings, on a landing area where other vessels were also parked, when we heard an explosion."

Malcolm paused and Trip studied him, feeling like a damn bastard. Having to recall and recount what he very likely considered a personal failure was clearly distressing for his friend; his drawn features betrayed more than just physical discomfort. And this Commander-Lieutenant charade certainly didn't make things any easier. Trip had to bite his tongue to stop himself from putting and end to it, easing the tension with some encouraging word. But Malcolm was in full officer mode. Trip saw his eyes harden as he braced to continue.

"We turned and saw smoke billow out of the buildings we had just left. Seconds later people began to pour out of them running and screaming; I immediately ordered Brown to escort the Captain and Commander to the shuttlepod while I followed close by, covering their backs, keeping an eye on the situation. A moment later I heard shots behind me and felt a sharp pain in my arm; I turned just in time to see the Captain and T'Pol fall to the ground. Brown had taken cover behind a vessel, and I rolled behind some sort of low wall. I got my communicator out and contacted Enterprise to get us transported. You know the rest, Sir," he concluded in a tense voice.

"Do you have any idea of what or who might have caused the explosion?" Trip asked, looking pointedly into his friend's eyes.

He saw Malcolm frown as he answered hesitantly, "A bomb of some sort; an attempt on the Prime Minister's life… but it's only a guess. Commander, haven't you been able to find anything out?"

Trip felt a cold knot form in the pit of his stomach. "As a matter of fact, I have." His voice was tight, but he couldn't help it.

"Well?" Malcolm urged him, suddenly oblivious of rank.

Trip looked straight into his eyes and dropped his own 'bomb'. "The explosion has a Starfleet signature."

He saw Reed blink. "That is impossible," he answered in a hollow voice.

Trip clenched his jaw. Still looking closely at Malcolm, he said, "I had Müller analyse the data we got from the planet. You were unconscious and I needed confirmation."

"Of course," Reed murmured.

"Here." Trip offered a padd to Malcolm, who took it with his left hand.

While Malcolm buried himself in the data, Trip's mind was swirling with questions and doubts he refused to acknowledge, but had a precise duty to consider.

His previous conversation with Brown had left him deeply unsettled. Confronted with the data, the Ensign had confirmed it. _Yes, Sir. The explosion definitely bears a Starfleet signature_, he had said in surprise. And when Trip had asked if he could offer any explanation, Brown had shaken his head and added pensively, as if talking to himself, _None, Sir; Lieutenant Reed thoroughly checked the hall prior to the talks. Nothing gets past him. It would take the cunning of a covert agent to… _

That's when Brown's words had faded into the background and Malcolm's past involvement with Covert Ops had suddenly jumped into Trip's mind. He had forcibly dismissed the thought, but had not been able to forget it. It had remained in the back of his mind, nagging, bringing back the words Brown had said in the decon chamber, _Ever since we boarded the shuttle to go down to the planet Lieutenant Reed appeared quite nervous, as if something were bothering him…_

"This is absurd." Malcolm faint voice brought him back to the here and now.

"Can that kind of data be faked, Lieutenant?" Trip asked, already knowing the answer. There was that damned 'Lieutenant' again; but he needed the distance.

Reed thought for a brief moment. "It could, Sir, but since the Raans never had contacts with Starfleet before now it would still mean someone gave them the specs of our explosives," he answered, holding his gaze. "It would still mean someone in Starfleet is a traitor," he added grimly.

"Could Brown have planted the explosive?" Tip asked outright.

Malcolm narrowed his eyes. "He was never inside the hall, Commander."

Trip braced himself and commented dryly, "Brown claims you were nervous from the moment you stepped into the pod to go down to the planet." He looked at Malcolm enquiringly. His friend was still sitting straight and rigid, and looked totally confused by his questioning. Trip could almost read his thoughts, behind the deep frown that was beginning to knit his brow.

Malcolm looked briefly away. "I… I was, yes. You know me," he said. "Sir," he added belatedly, his mind obviously busy considering the implications of Trips' words.

Trip silently cursed. It had taken him months to get Malcolm to become less formal with him and drop that damned word, which he had stubbornly tagged to every single sentence even when they weren't on duty. He said nothing and waited for him to continue.

"I get these… hunches sometimes," Malcolm said, adding softly to himself, "Not that I'm ever relaxed on a mission." He looked up at Trip. "I can't explain why, but I had a gut feeling the mission was a risky one, Sir," he concluded.

Trip looked away, hating himself for what he was about to do. His heart ached for having to say, to imply that his friend might have something to do with… He didn't believe it for one moment, there must be another explanation, but his Captain was in sickbay, he was facing a diplomatic incident and had the duty to confront Reed with the facts at hand and consider every possibility.

After a long silence he turned again and saw Malcolm study him with a concerned look. Well, Malcolm was no fool. He must already suspect where this conversation was leading. He heaved a deep breath and said quietly, "You were the only Starfleet person who was allowed into the hall before the talks took place."

He watched Malcolm receive the blow, his eyes flash with shock, horror and pain as he acknowledged what was being suggested. It was only a moment before he regained his composure, his face impassive, but Trip knew the lieutenant well enough to suspect what kind of turmoil he must be in.

"I was indeed, Sir," he finally answered in a low and unwavering voice.

He didn't try to clear himself from Trip's allegations; he just stared at him with stormy eyes, and Trip felt a terrible stab of guilt.

Unable to sit still under his friend's scrutiny, Trip jumped to his feet and began to pace, wishing he could wake up and find that this was all a nightmare. _This is Malcolm; there is no way that he would ever… _He heard his friend stand up too and turned to him.

Malcolm locked gaze with him and shook his head faintly. "Commander… hell, _Trip_, how can you suggest…" his voice faltered and he swayed, and in a stride Trip was at his side to steady him.

"You should return to sickbay and get some rest, Malcolm, you're not well," he blurted out.

But Reed shrugged off his hand and turned to face him. "Rest? Do you actually think that I could _rest_, not knowing if the Captain and T'Pol will pull through while the person left in command, my _friend_, thinks me a bloody traitor?" he asked in an accent that was more clipped than usual and in a voice that held as much disbelief as anger.

"I never said that," Trip replied firmly.

"No, not in so many words, _Sir_," Malcolm retorted with a soft, humourless laugh.

Trip grabbed his friend's good arm again. "I may not believe you a traitor, Malcolm," he said with deep feeling. "But the fact remains that as far as we can tell the explosive used was Starfleet and you were the only one allowed inside that damned hall."

When no reply came, he added, "Look, I'm sorry but… there is that precedent, when Phlox was abducted and you followed Harris's orders. As Acting Captain I have the duty to consider every angle, even the most far-fetched," he concluded bitterly.

Malcolm's eyes went wide with astonishment. "That time was different!" he exploded. "I was only asked to delay us and was made to believe it would help our mission! Are you suggesting I would willingly blow up these aliens and endanger the lives of the landing party, not to mention my own?"

Trip silently held his gaze.

After a long pause, Malcolm said in a hurt voice, "If you must hear me say it, Commander, I didn't do it." He cradled his injured arm. "In fact, I fail to see how you could even consider that I may be responsible for such a sloppy job," he concluded with a snort of disbelief.

Trip grimaced. He felt stressed and tired and now also miserable for having hurt his friend, and powerless to do anything about it. He let out an audible breath and said firmly, "Well, we'd better find out who did, and fast, because it sure _looks_ like you planted that bomb."

"Grand," Malcolm murmured laconically.

"What do you know about Ensign Brown?" Trip asked after a moment.

Malcolm closed his eyes and Trip realised it wouldn't be any easier for Reed to discover a traitor among his men.

"How would Brown…" Malcolm's answer was cut short by the sound of the comm.

"Commander, I was finally able to get Admiral Gardner," Hoshi said through it.

"Thank you, Hoshi," Trip replied. He turned to Malcolm. "See what you can find out about Brown," he urged. "Dismissed," he added softly.

Malcolm pursed his lips and nodded, leaving without another word.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

333

Reed walked to the armoury in a daze. His arm was throbbing and his head was spinning, but worst of all he felt empty inside.

Three hours ago he had been standing watch outside a hall on what looked more or less like a routine mission on a friendly planet, and now he was in the middle of a diplomatic incident in which he was suspected of treason.

Well, it bloody well served him right. He should've known better than to take orders from Harris instead of trusting the Captain, that time. Now he was paying for his mistake. He couldn't really blame Trip for taking his involvement with Covert Ops into account, under the circumstances.

Yet he couldn't deny that it hurt him deeply. Trip was probably the person that, in all his life, he had allowed to get closest to him. He was his friend. Malcolm's thoughts flashed back to the beginning of their mission: he had been reticent to fraternise with him then, but eventually the warmth of Trip's outgoing character had melted his icy reserve, and he had committed to the bond. _Committed_ _to the bond_. He mulled the words. Indeed, like with anything else, he had taken their friendship very seriously, expecting the same in return. To think that Trip could even consider the possibility of him… _As Acting Captain he has to_, he sternly reminded himself.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he found himself in front of the armoury almost without knowing. Another distressing notion made his chest constrict: if the data had not been faked and the explosive used was indeed Starfleet, someone on Enterprise must be a traitor, and only one other man had gone down with him to the planet.

He brought a weary hand to his eyes. He was proud of his team. In the Expanse his men had showed a degree of loyalty and self-sacrifice that had made him feel honoured to be their CO. Could he have been so blind as to not see a traitor among them? What reasons could Brown have for putting a bomb in that building? Didn't the man see he would inevitably be suspected? He heaved a deep sigh and entered.

Alerted by the sound of the door opening, Müller turned to him, a warm and concerned expression clear on his face. "It's good to see you, Lieutenant," he said. "How is your arm, Sir?"

"It's fine, thank you, Ensign." Malcolm replied. He felt at ease with Müller. He found the man had the right balance between affability and reserve.

He saw Brown busy at a console in a corner of the armoury and went up to him. "I'd like to have a word with you, Ensign," he said flatly.

"Aye, Sir," Brown replied unflinchingly. He turned away from the console and faced him, standing at parade attention.

Reed studied the young man before him. For someone who might have just thwarted Earth's new diplomatic alliance with the Raans and endangered Enterprise's command structure he looked incredibly unperturbed.

Brown, as he recalled, had signed on just before their mission in the Expanse. Malcolm realised he didn't know much about him, his command style being based on mutual respect rather than closeness, but he knew he had never had anything bad to report about him. The ensign had always carried out his duties diligently. Reed had noticed that the man hadn't mingled much with the rest of the people on Enterprise, but when he was on duty he interacted with everyone in a very professional way. And Malcolm wasn't exactly in a position to criticise introversion.

Müller was at the other end of the armoury, out of hearing range, so Reed decided they had enough privacy to talk right there.

"Ensign, as you know the bomb that caused the explosion on Raan has been found to have a Starfleet signature," Malcolm said, looking Brown straight in the eye. "Any idea how that might be possible?"

Brown's gaze did not falter. After a moment he simply replied, "No, Sir, no idea."

"The only two people who went down to the planet, aside from the Captain and First Officer, were you and I, Ensign," Reed said directly. "And you volunteered. I imagine you can't fail to see that you are a primary suspect."

Brown clenched his teeth, but that was the only small indication that the man may be feeling some pressure. Malcolm had to admit he was impressed with his coolness. Innocent or guilty, he was being suspected of treason here.

"Yes, Sir," the ensign calmly answered. "But I didn't plant the explosive. The data show the bomb was in the hall where the talks took place, and I was never inside it."

Malcolm silently finished the sentence for him,_ but you were, Lieutenant Reed_. He felt a wave of dizziness and clenched his teeth in turn. He would hate to faint in the middle of the armoury right now.

"Are you suggesting that I did it, Ensign?" he asked outright, in a low voice.

Brown raised his eyebrows. "No, Sir. I am simply explaining why I cannot be considered responsible for the explosion. It is not my place to suggest who might be," he replied with cold politeness.

Malcolm wished he could cross his arms; it gave him a sense of self-assurance whenever he was confronted with a difficult situation or a problem to solve. But that bloody sling was in the way.

He settled for jerking his head to one side and shooting Brown a meaningful look. "If anything that may help us solve the mystery should come to your mind, Ensign, I expect you to report it immediately."

"Aye, Sir," Brown answered unfazed.

Reed nodded and turned to leave. _I plan on finding out all I can about you_, he thought. But first he needed to put something in his stomach or he'd collapse. With all that had happened he couldn't even remember when he had last eaten, and his body was beginning to protest.

* * *

Admiral Gardner looked quite upset. He hadn't taken the news very well, as was to be expected.

"After the Xindi attack, as you know all too well, there have been very strong feelings against aliens; I don't think I need to remind you of that, Commander. Many people have become of the opinion that Earth shouldn't be so eager to make contact and form alliances with other species," he stressed. "It's possible that some of Earth's xenophobic factions may be behind the explosion. That of course would mean they have infiltrated Starfleet quite invasively," he added thoughtfully.

"Unfortunately that's what it looks like, Sir," Trip replied.

"If only two people, aside from Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol, went down to the planet, perhaps they should be kept in confinement until it can be ascertained which one of them is our traitor, Commander. Although for the moment the information in your possession points only in one direction, really."

Trip flinched. The idea of locking Malcolm in the brig was not one he was ready to consider. "Sir, assuming the data we were given is genuine and the explosive was indeed planted by someone from Enterprise, I'm not sure it would really help. It might be better just to keep a close eye on them, put them under pressure and perhaps cause our man to make a false move."

Even through the screen Trip could see that Gardner was studying him closely.

"Lieutenant Reed is not new to doing things behind his Captain's back," Gardner said meaningfully, and Trip cringed. "I know about his past connections with Covert Ops. Captain Archer tried to minimise the Lieutenant's responsibility when your CMO was abducted a few months ago, saying that Reed had been put in an impossible position and that in the end he showed his loyalty to Starfleet," Gardner continued. "But this time it looks like he may be beyond rescue, Commander."

"Sir, I've known Lieutenant Reed for a few years now and I won't believe he's a traitor until crushing proof is before my eyes," Trip replied firmly. "Besides, if I may, something isn't right; it's too obvious. Lieutenant Reed would never do such a poor job. I think someone is trying to frame him. I would appreciate if you could help us dig up information on the other man who went down to that planet, Sir, Ensign Timothy Brown."

"Of course." Gardner paused. "I see your point Commander, believe me, but I also happen to know that you and Lieutenant Reed are good friends. I urge you not to let this cloud your judgement."

"I won't let friendship interfere with duty, Admiral, I promise," Trip replied tiredly. It would be a difficult thing to do, but he knew he had to manage somehow.

Gardner nodded. "Buy time with the Raans; make a formal apology and try to restore friendly relations." After a moment he added, "I'm afraid that if no conclusive evidence is found, I will have to order you to confine Mr. Reed and bring him back to Earth where he will face a court martial."

Trip clenched his jaws. He hoped it wouldn't come to this. "Aye, Sir," he replied.

"Keep me apprised of the situation, especially of any changes in Captain Archer's and Commander T'Pol's conditions. I wish you good work, Commander." Gardner nodded and the screen went blank.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

444

Reed entered the mess hall and was suddenly struck by the notion that it wouldn't be very easy to get a tray, put food on it and carry it to a table with one arm in a sling. He stopped in his tracks and heaved a deep sigh. It wasn't in his nature to ask for help.

As it happened he didn't have to, for a gentle voice behind him said, "Need a hand, Lieutenant? No pun intended."

He turned to the welcome sight of Hoshi, a wan smile on her lips. "I could indeed use one, thank you, Ensign," he replied gratefully.

"What can I get you? How does pasta-veggies-and-pie sound?" Hoshi suggested. "Or perhaps you're in an adventurous mood and dare try the mashed potatoes and meatloaf?"

"I'd rather leave that to Commander Tucker, Ensign," Malcolm answered with a smirk. "Pasta will be just fine, if you please," he added before walking to a table and sitting down heavily.

A few moments later Hoshi returned with a tray laden with both their meals.

They sat eating in silence for a while. Uncharacteristically, it was Malcolm who broke it first.

"Thank you for _not_ asking, Hoshi," he said softly, feeling a little better now that some nourishment was beginning to be absorbed into his system.

"Not asking what?" Hoshi replied slyly, her lips curving upwards.

Malcolm's fork stopped half-way to his mouth. "Well, if you make me say it, it won't count any more," he replied.

"After serving together for four years, I know better than asking our Armoury Officer how he's feeling when his arm is in a sling," Hoshi said, a glint of amusement flashing in her expressive dark eyes. "Besides, I already know the answer."

Reed sighed. "A sore arm is the least of my problems right now," he murmured.

Hoshi frowned. "What do you mean, Malcolm?" she enquired.

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Nothing. Forget I ever said anything, probably shouldn't have," he said, wondering if Trip had informed the senior staff about the explosion signature.

"You are worried about the Captain and T'Pol, aren't you?" Hoshi suggested.

"…Yes," Malcolm answered, taking advantage of Hoshi's train of thought to steer the conversation away from what he should indeed treat as classified information, at least until told otherwise. Not that the new direction their little talk was taking was any less distressing. "I feel responsible," he murmured grimly, averting his gaze.

_I am responsible. What if they_… even in the privacy of his mind he couldn't finish the sentence. After a moment, when Hoshi didn't answer, he turned to her again. Concern showed on her gentle features.

"I know you too well to try and convince you to stop feeling guilty, Malcolm," she said, softening her eyes. "But right now I think you should try and put that feeling aside and concentrate on helping yourself and Trip out of this situation. You need each other."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. So Hoshi knew about his predicament, the senior staff – whatever remained standing of it – had been informed.

"Right," he said. "Don't worry. As far as I'm concerned, he'll get all the help I can give him."

But his mind wondered how Trip felt about it. _Two people he deeply cares for are seriously injured because of an explosion I should have prevented; he probably has doubts about my loyalty… I don't really know how much Trip needs me right now_, he thought with a heavy heart.

They sat in silence for another few minutes.

"Hoshi," Malcolm said before rising to leave. "I need you to do something for me."

Hoshi tilted her head. "Just name it," she replied.

"I want you to check if Ensign Timothy Brown, of my security team, received or sent any messages in the last few weeks," Reed said in a low voice. "Make it a priority."

"Yes, Sir," Hoshi replied, switching to professional mode. Malcolm felt her enquiring gaze on him but she didn't ask anything, for which he was quite grateful.

"It shouldn't take very long," she said after a moment.

Malcolm nodded and stood. "Please report to me as soon as you have the information," he told her softly.

* * *

Ensign Brown entered his quarters. His bunkmate was on duty, so he was alone in the small room. He shoved aside the few odd items of clothing the other crewman always seemed to leave crumpled on the chair and sat at the desk. He turned to the computer and began to type. 'Dear Louise, thank you for your message. It was good to receive your news…' Brown narrowed his eyes and sat pensively for a few minutes before typing away again, a smug smile on his face.

A while later he contacted Ensign Sato. "Ensign, I have a private message to send to Earth, whenever is convenient."

Hoshi felt a twinge of something. Funny – Malcolm had just asked her to check Brown's messages and here was the very guy asking her to send a letter to Earth. "No problem, Ensign," she replied. "Bring it to me right away, I was just about to forward a bunch of communications home," she lied. It felt like the right thing to do.

* * *

Trip sat near the Captain's biobed, his gaze focused on his friend's face. If he ignored all the tubes and machines and looked only at Archer's face perhaps he could forget that he was injured and unconscious. His features were smooth and serene, no pain transpired from them, as if he were just asleep. T'Pol's finely chiselled face had an ugly greenish bruise covering most of the right side, so looking at her was more distressful. Trip had spent some time with her too, but then he had found it unbearable to watch her battered features so he had come to sit near his Capt'n. Here at least he could _pretend_ that the person lying on the biobed was all right.

How would Archer act in the present situation if he were in command? He asked himself. He wouldn't judge from appearances, he decided. He would be mad as hell but still be able to walk the fine line of diplomacy. He'd dig for the truth in any way he could.

He wondered how Jon would feel about Reed. Would he believe him, after what had happened a few months before? Would he lock him in the brig? Should he, Trip, lock Malcolm and Brown in the brig, as the Admiral had suggested? Was his judgement being clouded?

Damn, he'd been in command in difficult circumstances before, but never having to face so many problems: a diplomatic incident, a devastated command structure, two friends critically wounded, one suspected of treason, a probable traitor on board. He wished he didn't feel so alone. He wished Jon would wake up from this damn coma and take control of the situation. He felt exhausted and confused, his mind teeming with thoughts and worries, and empty at the same time. Maybe he should heed Phlox's advice and consider getting a few hours of sleep.

He heard steps and the curtain move as a person walked in and stopped behind him. He knew who it was without having to look, his stealthy walk unmistakeable. _Stealthy_. Why had that word come to mind? Quiet, nimble, cautious; there were plenty of adjectives to describe Malcolm's walk. Stealthy was a synonym for sneaky, furtive, _covert_. Why was his mind conjuring up images that his heart didn't share? He sighed inwardly and half-turned to acknowledge his presence. Malcolm shifted his gaze from the Captain to him and swallowed, and Trip realised he looked miserable.

"Didn't mean to intrude," Malcolm mumbled. "Just came for a short visit. I… hadn't managed yet."

"It's ok," Trip replied slowly getting up. "I was about to leave. You can stay, if you want." He turned and took a couple of steps past the Armoury Officer.

"I'm sorry," Malcolm suddenly said.

Trip stopped in his tracks and looked at him. He had his eyes on the floor, his back to Trip.

"Trip, I'm sorry," he repeated, turning to face him. "I know how hard this is for you. They are your friends, and I failed to bring them home safely."

Trip wanted to reply somehow, to say it was all right. Except that it wasn't. He was so drained he couldn't summon the energy to form words – any words – so he just kept silent.

Malcolm of course took it as an unspoken accusation. He pursed his lips, and his face hardened in a pained expression. "They are also my friends. I would've done anything to keep them from harm," he said in a hoarse voice. "I hope you can believe _that_ at least."

Trip felt a stab of guilt at the allusion. He had no doubt that even on the absurd chance that Malcolm had planted the explosive on someone's order, he'd never intentionally jeopardize the lives of the Captain and T'Pol. He had put his own life on the line enough times in the past to protect the Enterprise crew.

Trip strived to force words out of his dry mouth. "Of course," he said, but his voice came out as a croak and didn't carry much conviction.

Before either of them could add anything else, Phlox appeared, and they knew they were being politely asked to leave Archer's enclosed space.

After closing the curtain behind them, Phlox turned to the two officers. Seeing the question in Trip's eyes he said, "I believe there is a saying on Earth: 'no news is good news'?" He eyed Malcolm. "Lieutenant, it's a good thing you are here, I was about to page you. You're due for medication."

Reed nodded. "I hope I'm also due for some more painkiller, Doctor," he said wearily. "The throbbing in my arm is beginning to be distracting, I can't concentrate."

"Perhaps you should concentrate on getting some sleep, hmm?" Phlox suggested. "And you too, Commander," he added, with a reproachful look at Trip, who had lingered. "After all it's night on Raan at the moment; I doubt they will try to contact you before morning."

"Alright, alright," Trip mumbled. "You win, Doc. But I expect to be woken up immediately if anythin' changes in the Captain's or T'Pol's conditions."

"Of course," Phlox replied gravely.

"Commander," Malcolm said from the biobed where he was sitting. "I asked Ensign Sato to check if Brown sent or received any communications recently. She should report to me shortly. Just thought you should know."

Trip acknowledged with a nod.

Phlox came back and pressed a hypospray to Reed's neck. Malcolm closed his eyes, sighing in relief as the pain in his arm quickly subsided.

"Get some shuteye too, Malcolm," Trip said. He saw the Doctor smile in approval as he worked, and Malcolm smirk in annoyance as he opened his eyes again.

"That's an order, Lieutenant," he admonished, knowing how stubborn Reed could be. As he was leaving, Malcolm spoke again.

"Commander, have you talked to the Admiral?" he asked in a dark voice.

"Yeah," Trip replied. "Informed him of the situation."

"May I ask what his reaction was?"

Trip wondered briefly how he should reply. He didn't really like telling Malcolm that there was a good chance he'd have to lock him in the brig and bring him back to Earth for a court martial. He waited a beat.

"What would your reaction be if you were presented with the evidence we currently have?" he finally said.

Malcolm clenched his jaw. "I see," he murmured grimly after a moment.

"We need to work fast," Trip admonished. "But we need to be able to focus, that's why I want us to get a few hours of sleep."

Malcolm just nodded his understanding.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

555

Hoshi stopped in front of the cabin on B deck and checked the time: a little past twenty-three-hundred hours. Late, but Malcolm had given her an order, after all. So she pressed the bell.

"Enter," she heard immediately.

She opened the door and stopped just inside Reed's quarters. She was relieved to find Malcolm still in uniform, sitting at his desk.

"Ensign," he greeted her.

"I have the information you required, Lieutenant," she said.

"Thank you, Ensign." Reed got up, took the padd from her hand, and immediately got absorbed in it.

Hoshi glanced furtively around. She had always been intrigued by the lack of anything in Malcolm's room that would reveal her something about him, let her get a glimpse of the man's past, or of his family, or even of his hobbies. No pictures, no scout badges, no water polo ball, no… cricket bat, no nothing. Just a few books, neatly stacked on his shelves above the bed, but she couldn't make out any of their titles. It was unsettling and fascinating at the same time. As if Reed challenged you to find out who he really was. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. How many mysteries could Malcolm hide?

She looked at him and dismissed the disturbing thought. She liked the intensity he inevitably put in whatever he did. Even now, he was so totally concentrated. It was a quality that had always made her feel safe when he was around. No, she would never believe him capable of betrayal. It was nonsense. Even that time, a few months ago. She had felt terrible being the one who had revealed his deceit, but she had never had any doubt that his loyalty stood with the Captain and Enterprise, and that it would come through in the end.

"Ensign Louise Ashcroft…" Reed murmured, as if to himself.

Hoshi cleared her throat, a little embarrassed. She suspected Malcolm had forgotten about her standing in his room. Sure enough, his head jerked slightly before turning to her.

"Have you read any of their messages, Ensign?" he asked.

"No, Sir," Hoshi replied. She had wanted to, but had felt it wasn't the proper thing for her to do.

Malcolm nodded and turned pensive again, and Hoshi wondered why it was that one moment, like in the mess hall before, they would call each other by name, and the next, like now, he would stick to rank and keep her at arm's length. There was no one around after all. But, of course, he was too much of a gentleman, and probably thought that to call her by name in the privacy of his quarters would make her uncomfortable.

"Thank you, Ensign," Malcolm said again. "Sorry to make you work overtime."

"No problem, Lieutenant," Hoshi replied stepping out of the door. "Good night, Sir."

"Good night."

As soon as the door had closed behind Hoshi, Malcolm walked to his bed and dropped on it with a sigh, lying on his back. Despite Trip's order to rest he had spent the last hour digging into Brown's file, without finding anything suspicious or even odd about him. His family seemed normal; his past was ordinary; his curriculum flawless. The only piece of information worthy of notice was that he had lost his mother and some relatives in the Xindi attack; his mother had been visiting her sister in Florida. But during their mission in the Expanse Brown hadn't appeared particularly vengeful; not like Trip, for example. He had just been very focused on their mission, like all of them. If he had xenophobic feelings he certainly hadn't showed them.

He raised the padd and opened the first letter. 'Dear Tim, how is life treating you these days aboard the Enterprise?…' He went through the letter: nothing but friendly chat. He opened the second one, then Brown's reply. Not a bloody thing that might even slightly sound suspicious. _Damn!_ Malcolm closed his eyes and threw the padd aside, raising his good arm over his face. He was beginning to think that he was in a worse fix than he had imagined.

He heaved a deep breath and suddenly felt all the weariness of the past hours. Consciously relaxing his body, he relished the feeling of tension easing away. He was already drifting into an exhausted sleep when his console beeped. He startled and tiredly picked himself up from the bed, stumbling to the desk. He opened the connection and a face he had hoped never to see again appeared on the screen.

"What the hell do you want now, are you determined to get me into serious trouble?" he burst out angrily, very much awake again.

Harris looked unperturbed. "I happen to know that you already are in serious trouble, Lieutenant. I may be able to help you."

"I don't want your bloody help! I want to have nothing to do with you any more. I thought I had made myself clear," Reed growled.

"So you had. But…"

Reed interrupted him furiously "Go to hell, Harris. I'm not going to listen to another word you say. If Starfleet finds out you have contacted me, no one will believe in my innocence, not even my own mother!" He reached out and hit the button angrily to cut off the connection.

Malcolm passed a nervous hand through his hair. _Just what I needed_, he thought irritably. His heart was racing, and he went to get himself a glass of water to try and calm down. He glanced at the bathroom mirror and startled at the image he saw reflected. No wonder Trip had ordered him to get some rest.

He returned to the bed and stretched out on it again, trying to find a comfortable position – not an easy thing to do with an injured arm. He doubted he'd fall asleep any time soon, but he closed his eyes anyway, ordering the lights off. Instead of counting sheep he'd count the many colourful curses he could think up for Harris.

* * *

Trip awoke to the sound of the alarm clock. He shut it off with a groan, wondering how it was possible that it was already time to get up, it felt as if he had just closed his eyes. He wished he could go back to sleep, he didn't look forward to waking up to the present predicament.

After a shower and shave he put on a fresh uniform and commed sickbay. Phlox seemed a little bit more positive about the chances of the Captain and T'Pol recovering; the two officers were still unconscious but their biosigns were getting stronger. Well, this was at least good news to begin the day with. He was about to go to the mess hall for a hearty breakfast when his comm. link beeped.

"Sir, they are hailing us from the planet," the person manning communications said.

"Thank you, crewman. Put it through to my quarters," Trip replied.

The day before he hadn't found the time to speak to the Raans about the explosion signature; at least that's what he had told himself last night before drifting off to sleep. The truth being, if he was honest, that he wasn't very skilled at diplomacy and had tried to put the call off for as long as possible. Well, here he was now.

A moment later a grey humanoid face filled his screen and he recognised Prime Minister Teron from the times Archer had spoken to him. Those protruding purple eyes really gave him the creeps, but Trip schooled his features as neutrally as he could, not knowing what to expect after the outburst of Chief Advisor Asek.

"Commander Tucker, I hope I am not disturbing you. Raans begin their day very early, and I am not sure about human customs," the Prime Minister said in a voice that seemed sincerely kind.

Trip was taken aback. He had expected another furious outburst. "No, Sir," he replied. "Humans get up quite early too." _At least this human does_, he silently added. "I was relieved to know that no one on your planet was seriously injured in the explosion, Prime Minister," he added hesitantly after a short pause.

"We were fortunate, Commander. We had just vacated the hall," Teron replied. "How are your officers? I was told they were wounded when my guards fired on them," he enquired with a frown of what, on a human face, would have probably been concern.

"Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol are in critical condition. Lieutenant Reed received a minor injury," Trip said gravely.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Commander. I assure you, I didn't order the attack; my guards reacted rashly and have been reprimanded for that," Teron replied. "I was very impressed with your Captain. He and I share the same view. All species should indeed make an effort to know each other and collaborate to the well-being of the galaxy." After a short pause he asked, "What can you tell me about the explosion's signature? Can you confirm our findings?"

"I can," Trip admitted grimly. The Prime Minister's composure was making this conversation a lot easier than he had expected; yet it wasn't fun to concede that someone on Enterprise may be responsible for blowing up their hall and injuring a bunch of innocent people. "If I may, Sir, I have no way of tellin' if the data that was given to us is genuine," he added cautiously.

"I see," Teron replied, and Trip almost sighed in relief. This man really seemed sincerely willing to understand. "I do have enemies on my world," the Prime Minister added thoughtfully.

"But even if the data was faked, and the explosive used was not Starfleet, there is the still the question of how it is possible someone on Raan had the knowledge to simulate a Starfleet explosive signature," Trip reasoned. "We have a traitor, I'm afraid, and we'll do our best to find him and bring him to justice. You can rest assured of that, Sir. Please accept Starfleet's formal apologies," Trip concluded, straightening his shoulders.

"They are accepted, Commander. It's quite clear that whoever did this wanted to prevent Humans and Raans from forming an alliance. Let's not forget that there are people, on both our worlds, who are against interplanetary exchanges. Many Raans are wary of befriending more technologically advanced species," the Prime Minister said sombrely. "They fear their superiority and firmly oppose my government's policy." The alien paused and then concluded, "I'll have people check the data that was sent to you, Commander. I'll keep you apprised of any developments."

Then, to Trip's surprise, Teron's purple eyes suddenly filled with very human-like compassion as he added, "I hope your Captain and Commander will recover. I would appreciate if you could keep me informed on their conditions."

"I will, Sir," Trip replied, impressed by the man's kindness. "Thank you for your understanding and concern."

The screen went blank and Trip shook his head in amazement. He certainly hadn't expected this conversation to go the way it had. Prejudice was such a difficult thing to eradicate, he wondered. He too, he was ashamed to admit, had fallen into the trap, feeling upset just to set eyes on a grey face with bulging purple eyes. _People have such an instinctive distrust of whoever is different from them_, he mulled. _That is our real challenge_. It had taken the different races on Earth centuries to trust one another, he wondered if they would ever achieve such an ambitious goal on a larger scale.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

666

Stepping onto the bridge, Hoshi nodded to the crewman who had manned her console during the G shift. "Anything to report, Crewman?" she asked.

"We were hailed by the planet some twenty minutes ago, Madam," the young man replied. "I passed the communication to Commander Tucker's quarters."

Hoshi slid into the seat the crewman had promptly vacated. "Thank you," she said to the man, who nodded and left.

She settled down and immediately went to do a comm. system check. She had her orders. As she worked a dark expression came over her face. Frowning, she double-checked her readings. She bit her lip, feeling numb as her hands expertly tapped away. She didn't like what she thought she was seeing; she had to make absolutely sure. After three quarters of an hour she leaned back in her chair, dreading what she knew she had to do.

"Ensign," she said to Mayweather. "I'm leaving the bridge for a few minutes. I need to talk to Commander Tucker."

* * *

Trip stormed into the armoury and saw Malcolm turn to him and knit his brow. He suspected Reed knew why he was there, and his pulse accelerated as he felt anger swell inside him. Damn him! As Enterprise's Security Officer surely he must have known that he, like Brown, would be monitored! What game was he playing? Was he _trying_ to get thrown into the brig?

Trip marched up to him and said in a low and deadly voice, "I need to speak to you in private, Lieutenant." Malcolm closed his eyes briefly and nodded, and Trip led the way out of the armoury.

They strode in silence to the turbo lift, and Trip pushed the button to the bridge. He could feel Malcolm's gaze on him but purposely avoided meeting it, and clenched his jaw determined not to confront him before they had reached the sanctuary of Archer's ready room.

On the bridge Trip said a curt 'Good morning' to the people there and went directly to his destination. He didn't see Hoshi exchange a fleeting glance with Malcolm and lower her head, obviously upset.

The moment the door closed behind Reed, Trip turned to face him, his jaw jutting out in anger. "You received a call last night. On a confidential channel," he ground out.

Malcolm heaved a deep breath and met his gaze unwaveringly. "Yes, Commander, I did, but…"

"Well I sure hope you have a damn good explanation, because it doesn't look good for someone suspected of treason," Trip snapped. "And forget about rank, Malcolm, I'm talkin' to my friend here, I want to know what _the hell_ is goin' on with you," he added with barely restrained fury.

Malcolm's eyes never left Trip's. "Harris contacted me. Said he knew I was in trouble and offered to help. I sent him to the devil and cut off the communication. And that's all there is to it, Trip," Malcolm answered quietly but firmly. "I was going to tell you myself, but you anticipated me."

A heavy silence fell between them.

"You don't believe me, do you? How can you not believe me!" Malcolm suddenly burst out.

There was a note of despair in his voice and Trip felt himself once again play tug-of-war with Commander Charles Tucker, the man in command. He shook his head and said, "I _want_ to, but you're not makin' things easy for me, you've got to admit."

"I'm not trying to make them difficult, believe me," Malcolm answered with feeling.

There was another long pause, broken again by Malcolm's distressed voice, "I'm the Chief Security Officer, for goodness's sake. Do you think I'd be so stupid not to know I'd be monitored?" He gave a soft ironic laugh. "You must really think highly of me to believe me capable of such idiotic blunders.-- _He _called_ me_, Trip!"

"Alright, alright," Trip said irritably.

He hated this emotional roller-coaster. When he thought of Malcolm as his friend he was certain of his innocence. But the moment he remembered that he was in command it was as if he turned into another person, someone who could not take anything for granted, who could not allow himself the luxury of trust. Right now he was a Starfleet officer before he was Malcolm's friend, and had to think and act as such if he wanted to keep his promise to Admiral Gardner.

"Trip, I didn't do it," he heard Malcolm repeat in a weary, tormented voice, and looked up to see his friend rub his eyes tiredly. He studied him closely and noticed how drawn his face still looked. He immediately regretted getting angry at him. Surely it couldn't be easy to be suspected of treason and have even your best friend doubt your sincerity. _Damn, _he cursed. If he weren't Acting Captain he was sure he'd been offering Malcolm all of his support, and here he was instead, one moment his friend, the next biting his head off.

They looked at each other in silence, and taking in Malcolm's misery Trip felt his irritation melt away.

"Did you get some rest as I ordered you, _Lieutenant_, or were you your usual stubborn and heroic self?" he asked softly, in playful reproach and with a tentative conciliatory grin.

He saw, to some relief, Malcolm respond with a faint but trademark smirk.

"If truth be told, _Sir_, I did cheat a little," he murmured. "But I managed a full four and a half hours of sleep; although I could've used another four and a half," he added with a grunt.

Trip felt the tension between them ease a bit and was glad about it. It felt good – normal – to have a little bantering.

"I've spoken to the Prime Minister," he revealed abruptly after a moment. He was going to trust Malcolm. Desperately wanted to.

"Oh?"

"He was very decent about the whole thing, surprisingly. He seems to think we should consider the possibility that our man might have had help from someone on Raan," Trip reported. "Apparently there are quite a few xenophobic factions opposin' the government's policy of interplanetary exchanges."

"Hmm, that's interesting," Malcolm replied pensively. "I suppose you've already asked Hoshi to check if there were any communications between Enterprise and the planet, aside from Captain Archer's," he asked.

"Yes," Trip replied with a wry smirk. "Nothin' came up."

"Lovely," Malcolm grumbled. After a pause he added glumly, "I checked Enterprise's supply of explosives: nothing looks out of the ordinary. Assuming it was Starfleet explosive that was used, whoever did this must have devised a way to smuggle some on board when we last left Earth without anyone noticing. Difficult, but possible."

"You have doubts about Brown bein' our man?" Trip asked with a frown.

Malcolm took some time to reply. "How can Brown be our man?" he finally burst out. "He wasn't inside the bloody hall, he wouldn't even have had the time to plant the explosive there. When we went down to the planet, I checked the hall while he checked the outside, and then the talks began."

"Who else can be our man?" Trip countered.

Malcolm closed his eyes and sighed. He opened them again and said gravely, "Assuming _I_ didn't do it, he pretty much has to be, I suppose." He shook his head as if to erase that thought, adding under his breath, "Not that I like the prospect. He's one of my men."

After a moment he went on, "But if Brown did it, how on earth did he manage to get Starfleet explosive inside that hall? _Damn_, we are back to square one." He grimaced and murmured dejectedly, "It really does look like I was the only one who could have done it, doesn't it?"

Trip raised his eyebrows. "Can't argue with that," he said wryly. "Although assumin' Brown is our man, that's what he's countin' on. He's countin' on the fact that you could have done it, while he couldn't. You were inside that hall, he wasn't. As Chief Armoury Officer all weapons supplies are your responsibility and you have free access to them, he hasn't," Trip argued. He looked Malcolm pointedly in the eyes as he added softly, without sting, "You were involved in Covert Ops..."

Malcolm pulled his face in a frustrated smirk. "Great," he said sombrely. After a pause he added irritably, "What I don't understand is… I checked the place thoroughly just before the talks began. How could I _not_ have found the explosive?" Looking up at Trip he suggested, "I really wouldn't mind taking a look inside that hall again.

"Aside from the fact that despite the Prime Minister's goodwill we are not welcome on the planet at the moment, you remain one of the suspects, Malcolm. Whether we like it or not," Trip replied flatly. "Has Hoshi reported to you about Brown's communications with Earth?" he enquired.

Malcolm sighed. "Yes. Brown has been corresponding with a certain Ensign Louise Ashcroft, a Starfleet engineer. But there is nothing suspicious in their letters," he replied. "Just friendly chat."

Silence fell between them.

"We'll, I'd better get back to the armoury," the lieutenant murmured after a moment. Before leaving he said hesitantly, "I was in sickbay this morning, early. For my medication. Phlox says the Captain and T'Pol are doing a little better."

"Yeah, I know," Trip just replied. Seeing Malcolm tense up he added, "About last night… look, I'm sorry. I was damn tired. I know you did the best you could to bring them home safely, Malcolm." After a short pause he murmured, as much to reassure himself as his friend, "They'll be ok, I'm sure they will."

* * *

Chief Advisor Asek felt irritation turn him sour, but didn't allow his face to betray any of his inner feelings. "Excellency, you have experienced first hand the ruthlessness of these Humans. We were very lucky to escape death. There are public demonstrations all over the city against the government policy with regards to alien interference in our world. I urge you to reconsider."

"Interference? An alliance is no interference, Asek. We can't ignore all the other species that are in the galaxy, we can't remain isolated while others form a federation of planets. Most importantly, we can't let fear rule us," the Prime Minister retorted. "The explosion may have a Starfleet signature, but I'm sure Captain Archer was as much a victim here as we were. He came in good faith, I'm certain of it. I'm not going to order Enterprise to break orbit until we have found out the truth."

"With all due respect, your Excellency, we already know the truth," Asek replied resolutely. "That Human, that Lieutenant Reed; we should have never allowed him into the hall. In light of what has happened, Sir, you must admit it was an exaggerated show of kindness on our part to grant Captain Archer's request to have their security check the hall. You see where it has led us. If we let Enterprise stay, we may be in more danger," he concluded letting a touch of irritation come to the surface.

"If I didn't know you any better, Asek, I'd say you were ready to join the people who are crowding the streets right now protesting against our interplanetary policy," Teron said, frowning.

Asek quickly smoothed his features. "Sir, I'm only concerned about your well-being and that of our people. I'm not saying we should ban all contacts with alien species; just that we can't trust these Humans after what's happened. Send them home. Let time pass and people forget, and then maybe we can think about trying again with some other species," he said in an ingratiating voice.

Teron stood pensively at the window of his office, looking out onto the streets of his city, crowded with people shouting and carrying anti-government banners. After a long moment he turned to Asek, as if surprised that the man was still standing there, waiting for an answer. "I'll think about it," he said noncommittally.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

777

Trip cut the connection with Admiral Gardner and sat in Archer's chair with his eyes closed, letting silence roll over him.

Teron had claimed he had found nothing wrong with the data that had been sent to Enterprise; apparently the explosive used had indeed been Starfleet. Trip had no way of knowing if this was the truth, of course, but instinctively he trusted the Prime Minister. There was always the risk that Teron could have been lied to; as far as Trip could understand of the situation on Raan there were plenty of people who would want to get rid of the present government and wouldn't think twice before making Starfleet appear like an enemy. There were too many 'what-ifs'. What it all boiled down to was that they hadn't been able to come across a single piece of conclusive evidence. Not against Brown, nor anyone else; and what that left was the fact that everything _seemed_ to incriminate Malcolm.

'As simple as that', Gardner had said. But Trip didn't see anything simple in having to obey the order to lock his friend in the brig. He briefly considered disobeying it; but he knew that wouldn't help anyone. Ending up behind bars too certainly wouldn't help Malcolm.

He moved his hand to the comm. link; it felt like lead. "Tucker to Reed," he paged.

"Reed here," a familiar voice answered a moment later.

"Where are you, Malcolm?" Trip asked, trying to keep the turmoil he felt out of his voice.

"On my way to sickbay; I forgot about my medication and the Doctor threatened to keep me there if I don't go right away," Reed replied irritably.

"I'll meet you there," Trip said. He cut the connection before Malcolm could ask anything. He commed the armoury. "Tucker to Ensign Müller."

"Go ahead, Sir," Müller replied instantly.

"Please meet me outside sickbay in fifteen minutes, Ensign," Trip ordered.

"Aye, Sir," Müller answered, after the briefest hesitation.

When Trip entered sickbay Phlox was busy treating Malcolm's arm. He walked up to the biobed stopping a short distance away. How the hell was he supposed to do this? He took time, enquiring after Archer and T'Pol.

"How are your patients, Doc?" he asked tensely.

"I'm happy to report that they are getting stronger by the hour," Phlox replied allowing himself one of his wide grins. "I'm quite optimistic. In fact, I feel confident that they will both come out of their coma and recover, given enough time."

"How _much_ time is enough time?" Trip ground out, beginning to pace.

"I can't really say. I wish I could," Phlox replied in his seemingly ever cheerful voice. "It could be tomorrow, or next month. Patience, Commander, patience," he urged.

"Well, my patience is runnin' thin. I sure hope it's tomorrow, or even today, because I'm darned tired of bein' in command," Trip bit back, still pacing nervously.

He was aware that Malcolm was following him with a studying gaze. Shooting a glance in his direction he saw that his friend had sensed his unease. Not that it took a genius.

"There, Lieutenant," Phlox said after a few minutes, helping Reed back into his uniform sleeve. "Your wound is healing nicely. I think we can do without the sling, now."

"I wasn't aware you were wearing a sling, Doctor," Malcolm replied absentmindedly, without putting any humour in the joke, his eyes never leaving his pacing superior.

"Hm? Ah, of course," Phlox said with a chuckle, moving off to look after his menagerie. "Oh, and… Mr. Reed, don't forget to come by tomorrow morning," he called to him over his shoulder in a reproachful voice.

"Provided I'm free to," Malcolm murmured, causing Trip to stop in his tracks. Turning to him Trip saw him tilt his head and raise his eyebrows in a silent question. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak but Reed anticipated him.

"Let me make this easy for you, Trip. You're here to throw me in the brig, aren't you?" he quietly asked.

Trip let out the air that filled his lungs and pulled his face in a lopsided smirk. "What makes you think that?" he replied.

"I've been expecting it," Malcolm said sourly. "And I am perceptive. But then, Müller waiting outside sickbay is a pretty blatant giveaway," he added, jerking his head towards the doors.

Trip sighed dejectedly. "I'm under orders, Malcolm. There is nothing I can do about it."

Reed clenched his jaw and nodded slowly, but didn't make any move to get off the biobed. "At least the first time I deserved it," he said bitterly after a moment. "But this time I've done nothing wrong." He looked pointedly at Trip, as if to gauge his feelings on the matter.

"Damn," Trip murmured, shaking his head. "What a screwed-up situation."

Malcolm pursed his lips. "Well, let's not keep Müller waiting," he said after a moment, sliding off the bed. "He has work to do in the armoury."

"Wait," Trip stopped him with a restraining hand on his shoulder. "I don't want this to be harder on you than it already is," he said. "I'll confine you to your quarters. I trust you will behave and not get me into trouble."

"No. You must do what you were ordered," Malcolm replied uncompromisingly. "I don't want you to risk your butt on my account. There is nothing to be sorry about, Trip. They are your orders. And there is nothing for me to be ashamed of. I've done nothing wrong. So let's go and get this over with."

Trip gave Malcolm's shoulder a squeeze. "All right, Lieutenant," he said after a pause. Looking straight into his eyes he added, "Somethin' is bound to come up, sooner or later."

"Forgive me if I can't share your optimism, right now," Malcolm replied grimly. Breaking free from Trip's grip, he preceded him towards the doors.

* * *

He debated with himself whether he should send word. It wasn't necessary, he knew; but it would be so good to share the euphoria he was feeling right now. Yes, they had outwitted them all.

Ensign Brown sat down in his quarters and began for formulate his message. It was a challenge, every time; or, better, a game. What should he chat about this time? Too bad the weather was no option, in space. After a few minutes of thought he began to type.

'Dear Louise, that piece of info you were asking for has finally come back to my mind. – Re that editor of art volumes, remember the store near Edward?'

After a few minutes he regarded his letter. Not bad. Could be better, with a bit of extra work, but he was suddenly very tired, after the tension of the past couple of days. Not that he had ever doubted they would succeed. He'd give the message to Ensign Sato right away. He'd tell her there was no rush, just in case she may become suspicious. There was no reason really; crewmembers were free to write home as many times as they wanted to, even encouraged to, now that they were no longer in the Expanse. Starfleet command seemed to think it was some sort of compensation for what they had gone through, the idiots.

After stretching contentedly to ease his tense muscles, Brown got up and left his quarters.

* * *

Trip leaned against the bulkhead near the porthole in Archer's ready room and looked at the planet they were orbiting. It was such a beautiful sight that for a moment he almost forgot it was also the origin of all his current problems. Its greens and blues and deep oranges had a soothing effect on his taut nerves.

Gardner had ordered him to try and patch things up with the Raans and then go straight back to Earth. Trip knew he could break orbit even now, since there was nothing to patch up, really: the Prime Minister had been very understanding and although no alliance could be formed at the moment between their two species, their relations would remain friendly. But he was reluctant to leave, because he knew some of the answers they were seeking were down there, and if they went away the chances to prove Malcolm's innocence would be close to zero. The problem – one of the many – was he had no idea what else he could do to find out the truth.

Malcolm had walked to the brig without another word and stepped into it with only a fleeting glance at him. Trip had watched him drop heavily onto the bunk and close his eyes to shut out the world, and the image had remained in the back of his mind leaving him torn and miserable. Müller, surprisingly – or perhaps not, Trip mulled, remembering he was Reed's second – had showed remarkable self-control. When told he had to escort his CO to the brig his face had let no emotion show, and Trip had wondered if Malcolm had prepared the man for such an eventuality. Whatever Müller had been told, he seemed to understand Trip's hands were tied, for as he was leaving the ensign had tried to make him feel better. 'This isn't your fault, Sir,' he had murmured.

A familiar voice suddenly shook Trip out of his reveries. "Phlox to Commander Tucker."

Trip felt his chest tighten. Would this be good news or bad? It was a 50/50 chance, and he didn't need any more bad news right now. The Doc's voice had sounded cheerful enough, but he knew that was no yardstick. _Aw, come on! You're supposed to be the resident optimist_, he scolded himself as he reached to press the comm. link open.

"Go ahead, Doc."

"Commander, I am pleased to report that Commander T'Pol has come out of her coma," Phlox said.

Trip felt such relief wash over him that he was left speechless.

"Commander…?" Phlox called.

"Still here, Doc," Trip hurried to reply. "Just lost my tongue for a moment. I'm on my way." He closed the link and rushed out.

For once stepping into sickbay didn't make him feel like someone was twisting a knife in his guts. He spotted Phlox right away; the good doctor was waiting for him with a wide grin on his face.

"Commander, T'Pol has been awake for the past forty-five minutes," he informed him. "I wanted to give her a thorough check-up before calling you," he added, obviously feeling the need to explain why he had waited that long before telling him.

Trip dropped the predictable question. "Can I speak to her?"

Phlox sighed. "If you really must, Commander. But for no more than a few minutes. And I urge you not to get her tired or agitated. She is finding it difficult to suppress her emotions in her weakened condition."

"Understood," Trip said. As Phlox was turning to leave, Trip stopped him with a hand on his arm. "How about the Capt'n, Doc, any changes?"

"He'll come out of it too, Mr. Tucker, don't worry," he answered soothingly. "Just give him time."

Trip hesitated before drawing back the curtain that surrounded T'Pol's bed. He had visited her only once since the accident and the memory of her delicate face bruised and swollen was still vivid in his mind. He heaved a calming breath and entered the enclosed space.

T'Pol's bed had been raised slightly and she turned to him as her Vulcan hearing immediately alerted her to his presence. Her fine features were still marred where she had banged them against the ground after falling under the guards' fire, but her eyes were open now, which made it so much easier for Trip to look at her.

"Up for a visit?" he asked softly with a warm smile.

"It is good to see you," she said, and Trip's smile widened; a couple of years ago she would've said 'agreeable' and tagged 'Commander' at the end. Despite her denials, she had changed. And not only with him. After living with humans for four years she was a very different person from the rigid Vulcan officer he had watched with suspicion the day she had first reported to Archer.

Taking care to keep his own emotions under control, Trip got T'Pol up to date with recent events, watching her dark eyes closely for any signs of distress. In the end he just fell silent, waiting for her to speak.

She took a moment to think and said, "Although it would appear logical to suspect Lieutenant Reed, in fact it is not, for he would have undoubtedly been clever enough to avoid putting the explosive in a place where only he had access."

"That's what I told the Admiral," Trip commented heatedly, before remembering that he wasn't supposed to get T'Pol agitated. He reined in his anger and added, "But with no conclusive evidence against anyone, Malcolm must stand trial as the only suspect."

"Commander," T'Pol said after another pause. "During the talks, I remember noticing that one of the Raan dignitaries seemed ill at ease." Her voice held a note of tightness, and Trip almost took one of her hands in his, stopping short at the last moment.

"What are you tryin' to say, T'Pol?" he asked gently. "Do you think he might have somethin' to do with it?"

"I am suggesting that we should mention this to the Prime Minister." There was urgency in her voice, which Trip wasn't used to. "You said he mentioned that the person who planted the explosive may have had help from someone on the planet," T'Pol added tiredly.

"Do you remember this dignitary's name?" Trip asked, noticing that T'Pol's eyelids were drooping.

"Chief Advisor Asek," she answered without having to think, as if she hadn't been unconscious for two days. A moment later her eyes had closed and she was fast asleep, and Trip finally allowed himself to touch her hand before rising to leave.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

888

Hoshi clenched her teeth and increased the speed of the treadmill. She was frustrated and needed to get it out of her system in one way or another; exhausting herself seemed a good one.

She just couldn't accept the way things were going. The Enterprise crew had become her family and right now it felt like a pretty disrupted family. Trip, the man-with-the-winning-smile, had not been himself since the incident, looking tense and troubled all the time. Malcolm, the knight-in-shining-armour, was locked in the brig, accused of treason. The Captain, the man-who-will-befriend-you, lay in sickbay felled by the latest 'friendly' species. _At least T'Pol has come out of her coma_, she consoled herself. _Maybe with her stringent logic she will be able to set things right again_.

The door of the gym opened and Ensign Brown came in.

"Ah, Ensign, good evening," he said jovially. "I just left another message to send to Earth near your workstation. Lady friends…" he said allusively as he took a couple of steps towards an exercise bike. "No rush, whenever it is convenient," he added reassuringly.

Hoshi nodded her understanding, stifling a grunt of hostility. Somehow she felt sure that _he_ should be the one locked away in the brig. Yet here he was, with that smug smile of his plastered on his round face while Malcolm was being treated like a criminal.

She went on jogging and panting, unobtrusively observing Brown as he began to cycle away. There was definitely something wrong with the guy. He was way too cheerful for the circumstances. Malcolm was his CO, for heaven's sake! After all they had gone through together in the Expanse, he should feel very differently.

_Another message… curious_. Hoshi narrowed her eyes. Time to take a closer look at all those letters, she resolved. Her decision came so abruptly that she slowed down without thinking, losing her jogging rhythm and almost her balance. She quickly pressed the button to end her exercise and went to get her towel and water.

"Good-bye, Ensign," she said coolly as she gained the exit, glad to escape Brown's appreciative but not appreciated looks.

* * *

Trip was lying on his bunk, trying to empty his mind so he could perhaps get some much-deserved rest.

He had spoken to Teron again and the Prime Minister had promised to investigate Asek's possible involvement, revealing that his Chief Advisor had indeed acted a bit strangely lately. This had given Trip some hope.

He had immediately taken the news to Malcolm, who had seemed more relieved, though, to learn that T'Pol had regained consciousness. Trip had been pleased to leave his friend in slightly better spirits. Yet his mind couldn't find rest. Glancing at the hour he saw it was past eleven and wondered if he shouldn't give up trying to relax on his own and get Phlox to help him.

* * *

Hoshi felt her heart rate accelerate. This couldn't just be a coincidence. What were the odds… She punched a few keys and returned to the other messages, knitting her brow in concentration. _Come on, Hoshi._

After leaving the gym she had come straight to her station, not even stopping in her quarters to get changed, which had earned her a funny look from the young man who was working the shift.

Half an hour later she picked up a padd and jumped off her chair, rushing to the turbo lift while shouting to her replacement that he could go back to work. This earned her another funny look, but right now she was too excited to care.

Stepping out of the lift she forced herself to walk for a few metres, but soon she had broken into a jog; after all the corridors at this time of night were… she never finished the thought as she bumped into a bulky shape and found herself on the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ensign," a deep voice said as a hand was held out to her.

_Damn, never run around corners_, Hoshi scolded herself. She raised her eyes to the owner of the hand and saw with a sinking feeling that it belonged to the very last man she wanted to see right now. She couldn't avoid blushing deeply as she quickly reached out to pick up the padd that had fallen from her hands. Brown, however, was faster.

"Thank you," she said tersely, holding out her open hand to get it back. Before returning it, Brown glanced at it and his eyes hardened, and Hoshi cringed seeing that in the fall the padd had accidentally turned on.

"Working late?" he asked with a mirthless smile.

Hoshi put on her best poker face. "When you mentioned you had left a message to send home, I suddenly remembered tomorrow it's my mother's birthday. So I wrote to her. You'll be happy to know that your letter, with a bunch of others, are on their way to their destinations," she replied in what she hoped was a believably light tone.

Brown studied her with narrowed eyes. He suddenly seemed much less cheerful than in the gym, and Hoshi felt her stomach clench.

"So, if I may, what was your hurry, _Ensign_?" he asked blocking her way.

"That's none of your business, I believe," Hoshi replied levelly.

"Perhaps we could have a chat over a cup of coffee in the mess hall," Brown offered unperturbed, in fact sounding as if he wouldn't take no for an answer.

Hoshi bit the inside of her cheek. She didn't need this right now. "Perhaps another time," she replied, trying to get past him.

Suddenly Brown grabbed her by an arm. "I'm afraid I can't let you go, Ensign," he said darkly.

"I beg your pardon?" Hoshi asked angrily, trying unsuccessfully to break free. "Let go of me!"

"I underestimated you. Our linguist extraordinaire has proven her talent again," Brown said through gritted teeth as he pulled Hoshi forcibly along the corridor with him.

Hoshi understood there was no point in playing dumb. "So what are you going to do now, kill me?" she challenged him. "You wouldn't be able to pin _that_ crime on Lieutenant Reed, now that he's locked in the brig," she ground out.

"There are many ways to make a death appear like an accident," Brown suggested pressing a knife to her back, and the evil glint that flashed in his eyes told Hoshi she was in a lot of trouble.

* * *

Trip banged the command irritably with his flat palm and the door of his quarters swished open. He thought he had left the turning and tossing in bed in the Expanse, but apparently he was wrong. Well, Phlox wouldn't deny him something to relax. It wasn't as if he'd never asked him before.

As he was walking along the corridor he saw Müller coming from the opposite direction.

"Evening, Ensign," he greeted him tiredly. "Goin' to get a good night's rest?" he asked rubbing his eyes.

Müller nodded his greeting. "Well, Sir," he replied hesitantly, "Actually I was going down to the brig. I thought I'd check on Lieutenant Reed, see if he needs anything before I turn in."

Trip gave the man a friendly smile. "That's good of you," he said softly. "Lieutenant Reed is lucky to have such a loyal second."

His words were followed by an embarrassed silence, and that's when both men became aware of tense voices arguing further down the curving corridor.

"You're not going to get away with it, Brown. I paged Commander Tucker and told him I have found evidence against you. So drop that knife and face it, it's over."

Hoshi's voice was shaky but carried clearly all the way to them, and Trip and Müller exchanged an alarmed glance. Müller automatically brought his right hand to his leg, but he was already off duty and unarmed.

Brown's tense murmur carried less, but Trip and Müller heard it all too well. "Nice try, Ensign, but I'm willing to bet you're lying. Sorry, my dear: I'm afraid it's your Lieutenant Reed who's going to be remembered as a traitor. Not that you need to worry about it, since you're about to meet an untimely death. A shame really, you're such a lovely lady."

Trip got Müller by an arm and pushed him inside a side door. "Get Lieutenant Reed," he softly urged. "I'll follow them and keep an eye on the situation. Check for our biosigns to find us."

"Be careful, Sir," the ensign warned. "We don't know how Brown will react if he sees you."

Trip cracked the door open and saw that Brown and Hoshi had passed by and were a few metres ahead. "Get back as soon as possible. Go!" he said in an imperative whisper, and Müller left at a silent jog in the opposite direction.

Trip slipped out of his hiding place and began to follow Brown and Hoshi, keeping a careful distance.

"Where are we going?" Hoshi asked in a tense voice.

"Well, since you are still dressed in a sweat suit, might as well orchestrate something in the gym, hmm?" Brown answered. "I wouldn't mind giving Commander Tucker a few pangs of conscience, getting you electrocuted on some malfunctioning piece of equipment, but that would take too much planning now. Too bad, he'd deserve it, him and his romances with aliens," he hissed in her ear. "But you can always slip and bang your head, can't you, darling?"

Hoshi felt a shiver travel down her spine. Was this really Ensign Brown? The same Ensign Brown who had been through hell with them and back? The taciturn man who seemed too shy to mingle with the rest of the crew?

She forced her mind to work. The gym, she knew, was likely to be empty at this time. The crew were either working or asleep. Well, she wasn't going to go without a fight, she steeled herself. She may not come out of it alive, but if she got Brown injured – or a few cuts herself for that matter – she may be able to thwart his plan to make her death look like an accident, and reveal his deception. That would at least save Malcolm.

TBC


	9. Chapter 9

999

Trip saw the pair enter the gym and knew he couldn't remain outside. They had arrived at their destination and if he didn't do anything Brown would carry out his criminal plan. It was risky, but he had to go in. He had changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt before going to bed; perhaps he could pretend he was there for a workout.

Heaving a calming breath he raised his hand and made the doors to open.

At the swishing noise Trip saw Hoshi jerk violently and try to push away from her abductor. But she must have forgotten Brown was a security man; trained to react fast and skilled at hand-to-hand combat. With a growl of anger he easily countered her move and a moment later she was in his firm grip in front of him, a knife held tightly just under her chin.

Trip froze. "Don't…" he began to say, but the rest of his words didn't get past the lump that he suddenly felt in his throat.

"Brown, let her go," a hollow voice with an unmistakable accent said behind him. Trip had always envied Malcolm for the apparent calm he could show in the face of danger.

Brown was breathing heavily but the knife against Hoshi's throat was unwavering. His eyes were wide with surprise and Trip could almost see his mind work frantically, weighing his options. The young linguist had her eyes closed and had gone quite pale.

"So you've caught me," he finally said, with a humourless laugh. "Well, I may have lost, but the damage has been done," he ground out. "People on Raan are up in arms and Teron's government will have to yield. No alliance will be formed. You should thank me, really: one less species to watch our back against."

Trip didn't dare avert his gaze from the scene before him but saw out of the corner of his eye Malcolm coming up beside him. He perceived that he was holding a phase pistol in his outstretched left hand, and silently hoped his friend was as good a shot with that hand as with his right.

"Let her go," Malcolm repeated in a steely voice. "You're not going to gain anything by hurting her."

Brown let out a nervous chuckle. "Seems to me at this point I have nothing to gain even if I _don't_ hurt her," he said.

"You're not that kind of man, Ensign," Malcolm replied. Trip thought there was regret in his words. But he had no time to think about it, for Reed continued, "You saved the life of many a crewman in the Expanse. I would have trusted you with my own. Whatever made you do what you did, come to your senses: put that knife down now, and let Ensign Sato go."

"I was another man in the Expanse. Or I should say, I am another man, _after_ the Expanse," Brown spat out. "I thought once the Xindi had been dealt with, Earth would be safe. But I've come to realise it's never going to be safe, unless we keep other species at a distance. I don't want to lose any more family the next time an alien race decides to get rid of us."

There was such suppressed fury in his gaze and voice that Trip was flabbergasted at how different this man before him looked from the reserved Ensign Brown he had come to know.

"So to keep the Raans at a distance you attacked them on their home world?" Malcolm asked. "It doesn't make any sense."

"They know we are technologically more advanced, so they wouldn't dare respond," Brown snorted.

"You almost got Captain Archer and Commander T'Pol killed," Malcolm growled accusingly, his voice showing emotion for the first time. Trip didn't turn to look at him but he could picture the exact hard expression he would have on his face.

"No one was supposed to get hurt. Not even Teron," Brown snapped back. "The explosion was only to stir up xenophobic feelings on Raan. There was a slight hitch. We should have already been off the surface when the bomb went off," he explained angrily. "We took a little longer than expected to get to the shuttlepod, or that idiot Asek miscalculated and detonated the explosive earlier than he was supposed to." His voice turned cold as he added dismissively, "Or perhaps he decided he wanted to try and get rid of the Prime Minister in a more final way."

"Asek…" Malcolm murmured.

Brown shot a triumphant look at Reed. "It was so simple, really. While you checked the hall, I was checking the outside; I knew he'd be my contact; I passed him the explosive and the detonator. Isn't it convenient that something no bigger than a communicator can blow up a room? When the talks began, all he had to do was sit down in his chair and stick it under the table. Then, at the end, I suppose he got away with an excuse and… boom!" He smiled wickedly. "Brilliant, don't you think?"

The next moment his face was straight again and his eyes wistful as he added, "You would've been tried for treason, Lieutenant, and no one would have been any wiser. Sorry, but we needed a scapegoat," he concluded tensely.

Malcolm was silent and Trip dared steal a glance at him. His calm exterior couldn't fool him; he knew Reed too well and his jaw set told him the man was experiencing his personal little hell right now.

Trip decided it was his turn to keep Brown talking. "Who told you about your contact on Raan?" he asked. "There were no communications between the Enterprise and the planet, except for Capt'n Archer's."

Brown shifted his icy gaze to him. "I don't think I want to tell you that, Commander," he replied with an evil grin. "You see, I may not come out of this gym alive, but I still believe that part can remain a secret," he said tightening his grip on Hoshi.

Hoshi opened her eyes and made to speak. But her dry mouth would not open. She knew all she had to do was scream a name. But the moment she did that her fate would be sealed, and she just couldn't get her voice to obey.

Brown's voice, instead, rang out higher-pitched but clear as he said, "Nothing personal, Lieutenant…"

Trip suddenly sensed Malcolm tense beside him, and a red beam crossed the air. It passed dangerously close to Hoshi's head and caught Brown squarely on the shoulder, and the man swayed; a second later a shape burst through behind him and dived to the side, firing as he did so. Müller's beam found a better mark, and Brown crumpled to the floor.

With a muffled cry Hoshi crossed on wobbly legs the few odd metres that separated them and found herself in another tight grip, that of Malcolm's arms. She buried her face under his chin, shaking, and he engulfed her in his embrace without a word, pressing her head against him, his eyes fixed on the form that lay sprawled before them.

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

10

Walking back from sickbay, where Phlox had declared Brown well enough to be locked in the brig – which Müller had done promptly and with gusto – and where he had learnt that Archer was expected to wake up any moment, Trip felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Yet something deep down gnawed at him. Finally he had to admit to his own self what this something was when he realised that his feet had carried him of their own volition in front of Malcolm's quarters.

It was the wee hours of morning by now, but he doubted Malcolm would be asleep. He rang the bell and had to wait no more than a handful of seconds before the door swished open and what looked like the ghost of Malcolm Reed appeared on the other side, leaning heavily on the frame.

"Am I disturbin' you?" Trip asked hesitantly.

"Since when do you feel the need to ask me that?" Malcolm replied pushing tiredly off to let his friend in. "I have long been used to having you show up at my door at any hour of the day or night."

"Yeah," Trip agreed, remembering a few times in the Expanse when, unable to sleep, he had found nothing better to do than keep his friend awake too. "How's your arm?" he enquired just to say something, jerking his head in the direction of said limb.

Malcolm looked at him blankly for a second. "Fine." Then he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "Trip, have you come to my quarters at – he glanced at the time – o-four-thirteen-hours to ask about my _bloody_ _arm_?" he questioned.

Trip grimaced at the flashback his friend's words triggered in his mind. He looked longingly at the chair near Malcolm's desk. "Mind if I sit down?" he asked wearily.

"Of course not," the lieutenant murmured, dropping on his bed. "It's not as if I was in the right mood for sleep anyway."

Trip sat down and for a moment they were both absorbed, each in their own thoughts.

"How are _you_, Malcolm?" Trip finally asked, staring at his feet before raising his eyes to his friend.

"Fine. I'm fine. My arm is fine and I'm fine," Malcolm replied testily.

Trip bit his lip. "Sure," he said. "Could have fooled me, though."

Malcolm's face hardened as he replied, "Well, how do you expect me to be? I failed to detect a terrorist attack, got my Captain and First Officer almost killed, was accused of treason, found that I nurtured a viper in my bosom, had to fire on one of my own men and risked in the process to get a good friend killed," he enumerated in a hollow voice.

Trip braced himself and got it off his chest. "You forgot to mention that you also had to endure your best friend's suspicions," he murmured hoarsely.

He watched Malcolm closely and saw him struggle for an answer.

"Yes, if truth be told that too," he finally admitted, looking at Trip from behind one of his undecipherable expressions.

It was Trip's turn to struggle for words. What was there to say, really? Too much and nothing at the same time.

"I haven't come to ask how you are, actually. I've come to say I'm sorry I hurt you," he choked out. "Because I know I did."

There was a long pause. Trip cleared his throat before continuing. "I don't think I can explain exactly what went on with me… it's as if these past couple of days I was two different people," he added, feeling numb. "Trip never doubted Malcolm, but I'm afraid a couple of times the Acting Captain did doubt Lieutenant Reed," he forced out, knitting his brow in a desolate frown.

Malcolm rubbed his eyes and shook his head. Then he leaned back against the headboard letting out a sigh, and Trip saw his tension gradually ease away and his eyes grow less stormy.

"It hurt, I can't deny that," he said quietly. "But actually I hurt myself, that time when I obeyed Harris. Everything else has come as a consequence of that bleeding mistake. _My_ bleeding mistake."

After a pause he added firmly, "Look, as a military man no one better than I can understand that you had your duty to carry out. You were in command in a difficult situation. You did what you had to do."

"That's what I've kept repeatin' to myself all the time. So why do I still feel so horrible inside?" Trip asked.

They fell silent, neither seeming to be able to find an answer.

"Because you care about our friendship, as do I," Malcolm finally said, thinking aloud. He took a deep breath. "So how about trying to put all this past us?"

"There is nothin' I want more right now," Trip replied with feeling.

Malcolm locked eyes with him. "Then it's a deal," he said with conviction, and Trip felt his own tension finally ease.

Silence fell between them again, but it was much more companionable.

"I'm sorry about Brown," Trip said after a while, regretting it immediately when he saw Malcolm's expression. "Ah, Malcolm, don't torture yourself over it," he added soothingly. "It wasn't your fault. You're not responsible for a person's choices. It doesn't reflect on your command style, I know your men have great respect for you."

"_Damn!_" Malcolm cursed softly. "He wasn't like that. I _know_ it. He's just another victim of that blasted mission in the Expanse, of all the evil we had to… to _breathe_," he murmured.

Trip had never thought about the Expanse in those terms, but he had to agree that it was an interesting way of seeing it. "Yeah," he replied. "It could be. Evil has a way of engulfing you, not everyone is strong enough to fight back."

They sat in silence for another while. Finally Malcolm yawned, and Trip pushed himself up from the chair suggesting, "Perhaps we oughtta try and get some rest."

As they walked to the door the engineer commented, "I'll sure be glad when I'm relieved of command and can go back to bein' just Chief Engineer."

"It won't be long, I understand," Malcolm replied. "T'Pol apparently is getting better fast." He sighed and added numbly, "Hopefully Captain Archer will also come out of his coma."

"Any time now, says the Doc," Trip reassured his friend.

The lieutenant triggered the door open. "Even though I was at the receiving end of your stick a couple of times, I want you to know that I think you were a fine Acting Captain, Trip." He raised his eyebrows. "Captain Archer would have probably thrown me in the brig right away," he said jokingly. "He will be proud of you."

"Thanks." Trip grabbed Malcolm strongly by the arm, immediately releasing the grip when he saw him groan in pain and lean against the bulkhead.

"That's the second time you've done that to me, Commander," he grunted.

"Damn, I'm sorry," Trip murmured regretfully.

Malcolm gave him a pale smirk. "Yes, you said that the first time too."

"I thought you said your arm was _fine_," Trip complained with an annoyed frown.

Malcolm rolled his eyes and gave him a playful shove. "Get out of here now, before you find something else you need to apologise for."

"Night, Lieutenant," Trip said with a grin, starting to walk away.

"_Night_, Commander," Malcolm replied imitating him. "Even though it's almost time for breakfast," he grumbled to himself, commanding the door closed.

* * *

"May I intrude, Ensign?" Hoshi heard a clipped voice ask as she was looking out of the porthole in the observation lounge. She was off duty for the day and in her still slightly agitated state of mind found her quarters a bit claustrophobic.

"Of course, Lieutenant," Hoshi replied, turning to Malcolm.

The observation lounge was a favourite spot with the crew, but at the moment only a couple of people were there, and Hoshi had found a quiet spot at a table from which she could look at the stars streaking past.

After sharing the evidence against Asek with Prime Minister Teron and getting the Chief Advisor arrested they had finally broken orbit and had set a course to rendezvous with Columbia, which would bring Ensign Brown back to Earth.

Malcolm slid into the seat opposite to her. He looked out of the porthole for a moment, then turned to face her and said with a smirk, "Usually it's the knight who saves the damsel's honour, but this time it was the other way round. As Shran would say, I am in your debt, Ensign."

A smile tugged at the corners of Hoshi's mouth as she asked, "Couldn't we be just Hoshi and Malcolm for a few minutes? I'm off duty, after all."

"Of course," Malcolm replied self-consciously. "Old habits are hard to abandon. I'm sorry." He looked at the streaking stars again, seemingly needing to collect his thoughts.

"A simple 'thank you' is by no means enough for what you did, Hoshi, but I just… I can't seem to find better words to express my gratitude right now," he said gravely, turning back to her.

"Nothing wrong with a simple 'thank you', when it comes from the heart, Malcolm," Hoshi replied softly. "I'm glad I could be of help."

"Of help?" Malcolm raised his eyebrows in an appalled expression. "You solved the bloody case single-handed, Hoshi," he almost cried out. "How on earth did you crack their encryption?" he asked in awe. "I read those messages too and saw nothing strange in them."

"Where there's a will there's a way," Hoshi replied with a chuckle.

Turning serious she added, "I wasn't ready to believe you a traitor, Malcolm. When Brown left me another message for that Ensign Ashcroft so soon after he'd sent his last one… well, I just _knew_ something was fishy."

She frowned as her mind went back to the moment she had seen the truth.

"I kept reading it over and over, all the time thinking 'there is no way that Lieutenant Malcolm Reed…' -- and then suddenly it was there under my eyes: Reed, Re-ed, _Re that editor_; and I wondered if it could be a coincidence. I checked the rest of the sentence, picking the beginning of every second word: _of art volumes, remember the store near Edward?_ Ar-re-st-ed; 'Reed arrested'. I went back to the other messages and sure enough, with a bit of work, in the middle of what looked like ordinary chat, I found our evidence. The name of the contact, where he'd be; and then, in Brown's first reply, confirmation of 'mission accomplished'."

Malcolm shook his head. "It's hard to believe Starfleet has been infiltrated by xenophobes," he murmured. "I wonder how many more there are, beside Ashcroft and Brown. Some big-shot for sure, big enough to make secret contact with Asek and relay the information to Ashcroft, who in turn passed it to Brown," he reasoned. "And I wonder what Harris has got to do with all of this."

"Maybe one day we'll know," Hoshi said.

Malcolm reached out tentatively to cover one of her hands with his own. "I always thought you were an invaluable member of this crew, Hoshi. Even at the beginning of our mission, when perhaps you yourself doubted that you'd made the right decision in joining Starfleet," he said softly.

Hoshi's felt a blush creep up her cheeks and cleared her throat to counter it. "Well, it seems a good thing that I stuck around," she joked.

"Thank you for believing in me," Malcolm said with feeling. "It means a lot."

Unease suddenly crept into Reed's gaze and he quickly lowered it. "About what happened in the gym," he said tensing up. "There was nothing else I could do, Hoshi. It was risky, I know. Shooting with my left hand made it even more risky. But I knew Müller was there to back me up, ready to spring into action. I didn't dare wait any longer, Brown was not himself, any time he might have…" He looked up. "I am so relieved you were not injured," he murmured.

The door of the lounge swished open and Trip marched in.

"Malcolm, Hoshi," the engineer called in an ebullient voice. Noticing Malcolm's hand quickly release Hoshi's he faltered, "Uh, am I interrupting somethin'?"

The Lieutenant crossed his arms in a defensive gesture. "What is it, Trip?" he enquired matter-of-factly. "You sound as if your beloved engine is about to blow up."

Trip glared at him, deciding he'd have to tease his friend for looking as if he was proposing to the lovely linguist.

"I just came to give you the latest piece of good news: the Capt'n has decided to rejoin us," he announced solemnly. He was rewarded with sighs of relief and two very happy-looking faces.

"Come on," Trip added, smacking Malcolm on his shoulder – his left one. "Let's go celebrate. God knows we've lots to celebrate. 'Nough with this cooin', you two."

Trip reasoned that Malcolm's look of embarrassment was worth the retaliation he'd probably get from him. Hoshi was biting her upper lip, but the corners of her mouth were curved upwards, which was a good sign – of what exactly he'd have to find out.

Epilogue

A week had passed and life aboard the Enterprise was almost back to normal. T'Pol had been released from sickbay and was supposed to be able to go back to light duties soon. Captain Archer was chomping at the bit, impatiently waiting to be released to his quarters.

Sickbay was quiet and neat as Trip entered it. Suddenly he had a flashback of what it had looked like a little more than a week before, and a shiver ran down his spine. He hoped he wouldn't have to face any more crises like the past one.

"So, how's he today, Doc?" the engineer asked Phlox, who had turned to him at the sound of the doors opening.

"I'm as good as new," a voice said, floating out from behind a privacy curtain.

Phlox shrugged his shoulders and pulled the corners of his mouth dangerously close to his ears, silently moving his hands in a gesture that indicated that Tucker could go and visit his patient.

"Good to hear that, Capt'n," Trip said, pulling the curtain aside and peeking in.

"Thank you, Commander," Archer said cheerfully.

"Whatcha readin'?" Trip asked, noticing a padd in the Captain's hands. "Hope it's not somethin' Malcolm suggested."

Archer chuckled. "No, no monograph on Admiral Nelson."

Turning serious he said, "I've been reading the reports, and I'm proud of you, Trip. You did very well under the circumstances. I wouldn't have handled the situation any better."

"Well, I'm not so sure of that, but thanks Capt'n," Trip replied with a lopsided smirk.

"How's T'Pol?" Archer asked after a moment.

"A lot better. And meditatin' again," Trip replied with a meaningful look.

Archer frowned. "How's Malcolm doing?"

Trip rolled his eyes. "Fine. How else? You know him."

"How is he _really_ doing, do you know?" Archer insisted.

Trip shrugged. "Ah, he'll be ok. He's got a lot to brood on, might want to be easy on him for a while, but he's tough."

"And you? How are you doing?" the Captain asked with concern.

"I'm even tougher," Trip joked.

"How's Hoshi?" Archer enquired after another moment. "She must be pretty shaken after what she went through," he murmured to himself.

Trip shot his Captain a funny look.

"Doc, he's fine," he shouted out to Phlox. "He's back to worryin' about all his crew, you can definitely release him from sickbay."

Phlox suddenly appeared beside him. "That's not a very scientific method for gauging the Captain's health, Commander," he said with a chuckle as he monitored his patient. "Hmm." He checked his readings. "Provided he promises not to do any work," he gave Archer a stern warning look, "I believe he can be allowed to rest in his own quarters."

"I promise," Archer hastened to say. "Besides, who wants to go back to work when I have such a fine replacement?" he teased.

Trip scowled. "Uh-oh, Capt'n. You rest and get well soon, 'cause I've neglected my engine long enough."

"Tired of carrying the burdens of command, Commander?" Archer asked.

"Ah, it's just that that chair of yours on the bridge is a hell of a lot more uncomfortable than I thought."

Archer grinned. "You're the one who adjusted it," he said, choosing to ignore the metaphorical meaning of Trip's words.

"Yeah," Trip replied. "But if I recall I made it to fit your -- well, you know what, Sir."

Archer's laugh turned into a grimace and he held his side. "Ouch, stop that, Trip," he complained. "If I bust my stitches you'll have to sit in it for a lot longer."

THE END


End file.
